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ichorai · 27 days

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ties that bind ; nanami kento ; october 26th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; nanami shows up to work smelling like you, and gojo has quite a keen sense of smell.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; more domestic vibes, nanami's Tired guys someone give him a vacation

series masterlist.

26th october, 2016

Nanami was having a long morning. Granted, the clock hadn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but he was already feeling particularly exhausted.

Possible reasons included, but were not limited to: the local bakery he usually went to for breakfast was out of his favorite kind of almond croissants, the vending machine that held his precious coffee outside of the school was out of order, forcing him to go forgo caffeine for the day, Principal Yaga informed him of an influx of village curses he needed to take care of since the school was currently short-handed on staff, and, finally, Gojo would just not stop pestering him.

The lanky, white-haired colleague of Nanami’s started off by sending roughly a dozen memes about a trendy topic he really had no interest in whatsoever. Then, when Gojo realized that Nanami had muted his messages when he no longer kept responding with: “Stop sending me these during work hours”, he took it upon himself to barge into his office and languidly splay himself across the couch situated opposite his desk and chair.

Perhaps the only saving grace of this morning, Nanami recalled, was waking up next to you—a sight he’d been blessed with for over a year now. You were still asleep when his alarm buzzed, though you mumbled something groggy and unintelligible under your breath. Knowing that you had a tiring day yesterday, your husband let you sleep for another five minutes while he slipped out from beneath the comforters to wash up. When he returned, you had curled up on his side of the bed, nose smothered into his pillow to inhale his scent. Nanami’s hand reached out to brush stray hairs away from your face, still slackened with sleepiness, but your eyes were cracked open into narrow slits.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, voice soft as ever. “We’ve got work soon. Do you want me to drop you off?”

You worked at a local university quite close to home. Though curses weren’t particularly attracted to you, what with your easy-going and admiringly-positive demeanor, where you worked was a breeding ground for negative emotions. Stressed students and impatient professors always had universities crawling with curses of all sorts. Nanami never liked the idea of you working in such an environment.

“I think I’ll call in sick today,” you mumbled back, pushing yourself to sit up against the headboard with a lethargic wince. “I have a terrible headache… I think I might be coming down with a cold. I’ve just got to reschedule today’s lecture with the students for another day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, brows kinking with worry as he moved to sit down next to you. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you from the pharmacy?”

“I’ll be okay,” you told him in a reassuring manner. A bright, but tired smile made its way onto your face when the back of his hand rested over your forehead to feel your temperature. He frowned in concern and pulled away—you were much warmer than usual.

Then, he dipped forward to press a chaste, but loving kiss right over your temple. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”

“You should be getting to work, Kento—”

He made a dismissive noise, and got up to go fix you the warm drink, squeezing in some honey and lemon in case you had a sore throat, too. A few minutes later, he came back with the steaming mug, and a pack of unopened paracetamol he fetched from the kitchen drawers.

“Take one now, and another by lunchtime if you’re still feeling unwell,” he told you, his sharp features displaying nothing but raw concern.

“Yes, doc,” you said with a slight laugh and a salute. “I’ll be okay, honey, really. It’s just a little cold, but thank you for the tea. Now you go and get ready for work.”

Kento pursed his lips, kissed your head again, and rose from your side to go change into his professional attire. Even after all this time, he could feel a warm flush settling over his cheeks when you whistled in appreciation from the bed, clutching the mug of tea in between your palms with a grin.

“You look so handsome, Kento.”

“It’s the same thing I always wear.”

“My point stands,” you said, voice rife with mirth. He shot you a soft, appreciative smile.

In his haste to get ready and rush off to work, he accidentally spritzed himself with your perfume rather than his usual cologne. He didn’t mind all that much, anyway, because that meant he’d be able to smell you all day long, and hurried to gather the rest of his things.

“I love you, please send me a message if you need anything,” he said just as he was about to leave, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“I will,” you reassured, one hand lifting away from the mug to take hold of his palm and tug the appendage upwards so you could kiss the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. “Have a good day at work, hon.”

God, he loved you more than anything.

Now, with Nanami’s mind both burdened with thoughts of you being sick, and stressed over the new wave of village curses Yaga asked him to take care of, he hadn’t even noticed Gojo suddenly right at his side rather than ridiculously spreading out over the office’s couch.

“Ooh, Nanamin,” he said the fond nickname in a crude, high-pitched tone, and over-exaggerated sniffing at Nanami’s suit, “Who is this I’m smelling on you? Are you seeing someone behind my back?”

Nanami’s left eye twitched behind his spectacles. It was a relatively easy choice he made not to tell anyone at work about you. He very much preferred to keep work and personal life separate.

“It’s my new perfume,” Nanami bluntly said, expression remaining unamused.

“I didn’t take you for a floral-note kind of man,” Gojo crooned in response with a roguish grin. If he thought that Nanami was lying at all, he betrayed no signs of such. “I love it! What brand is it? Where’d you get it?”

“Get out of my office, Gojo.”

The blind-folded man snickered and rubbed his hands together. Nanami’s evident irritation only seemed to egg him on. “Didn’t Yaga tell you? I’m coming with you today! Apparently there’s been reports of a special-grade curse there. You’re going to need my help, you know.” Gojo prodded at Nanami’s biceps.

Nanami’s lips pinched tightly. “Perfect,” he gritted out.

It was only nine in the morning, but he already couldn’t wait to get back home to you.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento ff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento drabbles #nanami kento imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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animentality · 1 year

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And obligatory link to my book, I love enemies to lovers, and that's basically all I ever write.

(also ps, book is free until February 26th so).

#polls #writing #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #spilled ink #literature #bookblr #book recs

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fallinallincurls · 3 months

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in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want

this is my entry for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i wrote this fic for the lovely @laurenairay and i hope you love it so much! i had the best time writing this one (which means there will probably be more brock fics in the future). and shoutout to @tonyspep for bouncing ideas around with me as always!

i also made a playlist for this fic as well if you'd like to check it out!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 3.8k+

~~~~~

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a plane back to Minnesota right now so you would be home in time for Christmas. But when you arrived at the airport earlier, the board of departures were full of canceled flights including yours. And when you brought your dilemma to the customer service desk, they informed you that all flights out of Vancouver were either booked or canceled through the 26th. The day after Christmas.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. Frantically knocking on your best friend’s front door and trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to cry.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter to yourself, knocking one more time in hopes that the one person you want to see right now will answer.

At that very moment, the door swings open to reveal a cozy but sleepy looking Brock. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats with an old Canucks t-shirt. His blonde hair is tousled but still somehow looks perfect and his blue eyes light up at the sight of you. You love seeing him like this, so soft and relaxed. The Brock that the media and fans don’t know, but you do.

“Uh, hi. Again.” You say quietly while offering a watery smile.

“Y/N?” Brock asks, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You don’t blame him, it is only six in the morning. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going home today?”

“Well yeah, but the insane snow storm had other plans. My flight was canceled and I can’t get anything until after Christmas. So I’m kind of stuck here.”

“A week of me wasn’t enough for you?” He teases, that familiar smile brightening up his face. You just shrug in response, your lips just barely tipping up at his playfulness.

Without saying another word, Brock pulls you into his arms for the tightest hug. It takes everything in you not to sob against his sturdy chest as the warmth and comfort he always carries surrounds you.

“I’m going to miss Christmas.” The terrifying admission tumbles from your lips as tears start falling. You’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and you can’t imagine spending the magical day stranded halfway across the continent.

“No, you’re not.” Brock murmurs, smoothing your hair down as he holds you. The small gesture immediately makes you feel more at ease. It’s something only he knows that will help calm you down when you’re upset. Before you protest, Brock makes a split second decision. “You’re going to spend Christmas here, with me. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together. And you can stay here since all the hotels are probably booked or mad expensive, it’s just easier.”

It takes a moment for Brock’s words to register in your mind, but when they do, your heart swells. Of course he would welcome you in for a holiday that you weren’t supposed to spend with him. He would do anything for you and he’s been that way since you were kids. But right now, you’re more grateful than ever for his kindness.

“Are you sure? I was only supposed to visit you for a week.” You ask faintly, voicing the only worry that surfaced at his suggestion.

When the University of Minnesota, the school that you’re currently a professor at, announced the dates of winter break, you immediately booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend some much needed time with your best friend. It’s tough to see Brock during the season because classes are also in session and schedules almost never line up. But you weren’t letting this opportunity pass by. The past week has been spent catching up and doing everything that was physically possible together. You couldn’t have been happier you made the trip until the debacle this morning put a damper on the unbelievable happiness you’ve been feeling since you arrived in Vancouver.

“And the weather said a week wasn’t long enough.” Brock says, his tone of voice telling you there was no room for arguments. “I won’t let you spend Christmas alone so we’re doing this, okay? Plus, I don’t think Coolie and Milo will mind having you around for a few more days. You know how much they love you.”

“The dogs aren’t the only ones who love me.” Brock smiles at your playful comment and can’t help but chuckle at the truth of the oblivious statement. The full extent of his feelings for you that he’s been hiding for years is unknown to everyone but himself. And maybe Quinn and Petey. But he won’t admit how he feels about you until he knows the moment’s right, until maybe there’s a chance you feel the same way.

So he shrugs nonchalantly and lets a laugh slip past his lips while ignoring the way his heart races just from looking at you. Before he can say anything in response, you’re surging forward to hug him again.

“Thank you so much, really. It means the world to me. You have no idea.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” Brock admits, honesty seeping through each word. “Besides, spending Christmas with you just made my holiday a lot more exciting.”

“Please,” You roll your eyes in response, but the softest smile blossoms across your lips and the insane amount of anxiety that was consuming you a few minutes ago has already started to dissipate.

“C’mon,” Brock starts, pulling you through the door and over the threshold of his apartment. “You’re probably exhausted so let’s get you a nap and we’ll go from there.”

There’s no resistance as he leads you to his bedroom, hands you one of his t-shirts and tells you it’ll all be okay. Before you know it, you’re under the blankets, wrapped up in the warmth and coziness of Brock’s bed, drifting off to a much needed sleep.

When you wake up a few hours later, well rested and feeling much better, you find yourself squished between two large dogs. A giggle slips past your lips at the sight.

“Hey guys!” You exclaim, not wasting a second to give both Coolie and Milo some pets. “Lucky you, I’ll be here for a couple more days which means you’ll get plenty of extra snacks.”

“No, they won’t!” Brock calls from somewhere in the apartment, making a laugh bubble up in your throat. Even if your Christmas isn’t going to go as you had planned, you’re glad that you’ll be spending it with your favorite person in the world.

The dogs race ahead of you to find Brock as you start making your way down the hallway. Although you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Brock’s apartment over your weeklong visit, you take a few extra seconds to look over the collection of pictures he has hanging on the wall throughout the hallway. Photos of him with his family, smiling with teammates, namely Petey and Quinn who you know have become his best friends, views from his many trips to different places around the world and of course, snapshots of you and him together.

A smile blossoms on your face as you look over the memories frozen in time in each photo, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous ones Brock has hanging up that feature his teammates and you. But just before you’re about to head down the stairs to find him, one picture catches your eye. You don’t know how you missed it over the last week, but you must have.

Because staring back at you are little versions of you and Brock, flashing big, beaming grins at the camera in front of the sign to the summer camp you both attended for years. That’s how the two of you met and you remember looking forward to the summer just because it meant seeing and spending time with Brock. Even though you both lived in Minnesota, it wasn’t until you were older that you were able to communicate outside penpal letters sent in the mail and the ninety days you spent together on the campground where you both formed memories that will last a lifetime.

You couldn’t have been more than seven in the photo and it’s clear that both of you are happier than ever. That feeling is still present today whenever you’re with Brock, it’s nestled deep within your heart like it belongs there forever and you’ve carried it around for most of your life. It only took you years after he already had moved to Vancouver to realize that happiness can often be mistaken for love.

Shoving those thoughts away, you bound down the stairs to meet your best friend again. There’s a new pep in your step as you’re determined to make the most of every second this Christmas even if it’s not what you expected. You’re here with Brock which is all you could ask for.

A gentle smile is already on your lips when you get to the bottom floor, but you halt almost immediately when you see the scene in front of you. Coolie and Milo are wearing the cutest doggie holiday sweaters and Brock is softly grinning while leaning against the kitchen counter which is full of a wide variety of baking ingredients. And when your eyes look over the living room, you notice a box labeled “ornaments” sitting atop the coffee table, undoubtedly full of all of the beautiful ornaments that were carefully hanging from the branches of Brock’s Christmas tree just hours ago.

“What is-”

“I told you we were celebrating Christmas and we’re going to do it the right way.” Brock simply explains, blue eyes twinkling with joy and you see a flicker of nervousness there too. Like he isn’t sure if you like the gesture.

“Brock,” You breathe out, his name just above a whisper.

“I know you love decorating the tree on Christmas Eve so I just took down the ornaments so we can do it together. And your family always bakes cookies the night before Christmas too and I surprisingly already had most of what we needed for the recipes.”

There aren’t enough words to properly show the gratitude, the love, that’s swelling in your chest so you just cross the room and wrap your arms around him in the tightest embrace. Brock immediately responds, pulling you even closer to him, and for a moment everything feels right.

“Thank you,” The words are quiet, but Brock hears them and presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head. You pray he doesn’t feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sweet action and he must not because he pulls away with a big smile and a hint of mischief mixed with something else you can’t quite place evident in his eyes.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less. What do you want to do first?” He asks, ready to jump into either activity. But it’s right then that everything clicks.

“Wait, you went out in the snow to get the rest of the ingredients we needed?”

“Well, yeah, it’s not too bad. Compared to the snow we used to get at home, this is like nothing.”

“But it’s cold! And how did you get the recipes for my favorite Christmas cookies without-” You trail off, the realization setting in at the same moment Brock speaks up to confirm your suspicions.

“I called your mom. She was more than happy to share the recipes with me when I explained what I was up to. That was the easiest part actually!”

If you weren’t already head over heels in love with him already, this moment would’ve sealed the deal. You can’t believe he went through all this trouble just to make the holiday special when you weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place. Nothing but adoration rushes through your veins and you can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks. Without hesitating, you lean up to kiss his cheek as yet another silent thank you and his skin almost immediately turns pink.

“Alright, let’s do this, yeah?” He asks, distracting you from his reaction to the little gesture the two of you have been doing since you were younger and pulling you into the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for Christmas music to be turned on, filling the air with even more of a festive feeling. Brock makes sure your apron is tied on, just like you do for his, and then you’re off baking. You teach Brock all the techniques you’ve learned over the years from making these recipes and you get the pleasure of seeing him so free and happy.

You want to see him like this for the rest of your life. A big smile on his face, eyes crinkled in happiness and no sign of any stress hanging over him.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” The question falls off your lips after Brock slides the last batch into the oven.

“Easy. You’ll take some back home with you so your mom can see how much of an awesome job I did and the rest I’ll give to the team. A lot of them won’t say no to homemade cookies even if it’s the middle of the season.”

“If you say so,” You giggle, not being able to picture his teammates willingly accepting Christmas cookies when they’re in the middle of the best season the team has had in a long time. But you don’t argue, just set aside the best looking cookies that you and Brock decorated for Quinn and Petey, and sneak one to Coolie and Milo too, before getting the kitchen back in order.

After everything is cleaned up so the kitchen doesn’t look like a total disaster anymore and you both enjoy the takeout that Brock ordered for dinner, no time is wasted in moving to the living room to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Okay, where do we start?” You contemplate, gently placing your full mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table while surveying the tree glittering in the corner of the room.

“I forgot how seriously you take decorating for the holidays.” Brock chuckles, opening the box that he put all the ornaments back in earlier. He didn’t really forget, in fact, he missed it more than anything. That’s more than half the reason he spent so much time taking every single bauble off the tree. Yes, he wanted to make sure Christmas was as magical for you as it would’ve been back home, but he also selfishly wanted to share this moment with you too.

And he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t full to brim right now with what he knows is love. Not that you can tell or would ever know that.

“The tree is serious business!” You exclaim with a chuckle, watching as Brock carefully starts removing ornaments from the box one at a time. He hands you a simple, but gorgeous blue ball to hang up first.

Slowly, but surely, the two of you decorate the tree with the wide variety of ornaments Brock has. He tells you the stories behind the ones his teammates have gifted him, shares the laughter with you when he stumbles across one that has a picture of him as a toddler in the picture frame and recounts the memories of family or solo vacations whenever he hands you one that was clearly bought at a tourist shop. There’s a soft smile on Brock’s face that never disappears and you swear he keeps sneaking glances at you.

The tree becomes more festive as each decoration once again finds a home on its branches and not for the first time today, you forget that this isn’t where you were meant to be for the holiday. But you’re kind of grateful for the snowstorm now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten to do any of this with the man who you’ve wanted for years.

“It’s done!” You cheer with excitement when you place the last ornament on the tree. “We did a pretty good job. Don’t you think?” Stepping back to admire the beautiful work you both did, your shoulder bumps Brock’s and that familiar shock of warmth floods through your veins at the brief contact.

“It’s the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” Brock responds playfully, but there's a faint tone of seriousness evident in his voice. His eyes are glistening in the glow of the lights and you can’t deny how perfect he looks so cozy and joyful like this.

A few seconds later, without you realizing, Brock slips away to put the box away until it was time to take all the holiday decorations down in a few weeks. But to his surprise, there is one last ornament sitting in the box that was somehow forgotten.

“Y/N,” Brock laughs, picking up the decoration. “We forgot one.”

“No way! What is it?” Nothing but curiosity and excitement is evident in your voice. You cross the room to Brock and lean into his side to see what the mystery ornament is.

And when you get a glimpse, your breath is stolen away. Because in Brock’s hand is a small photo of a grinning little boy and girl sitting together at a picnic table inside a picture frame made of colored popsicle sticks. The two words “best friends” are written in black marker across the bottom of the frame in a neat, but childish looking style of handwriting.

Recognition washes over you instantly.

“I made that,” You start, almost stunned as you look between the homemade ornament and Brock’s face.

“You did. Like decades ago.” Brock chuckles, the sound fills the room with happiness and light. He still remembers the day you gave him this little gift. It was the last day of summer camp and before you both said goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, you gave him the gift. For only being nine years old at the time, Brock thought it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. Plus, that way he had a little piece of you back home too.

Since then, he’s cherished this adorable, homemade ornament like nothing else. It always seemed a little silly to him, to hold onto a childhood craft, but seeing your reaction right now tells him it means just as much to you as it does to him.

“And you still have it. You kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” The question is gentle, but full of genuine interest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence as Brock battles with his thoughts for a moment. He knows this is it. This is the moment he finally tells you how he feels. All of the nerves and worries he had about confessing how his heart beats just for you falls away in mere seconds.

Your brows furrow at the strange look on his face. His blue eyes are full of an emotion you can’t place and the softest smile graces his lips. But more than anything, there’s a trace of clarity on display across his features. His gaze flicks down to your lips a few times before he speaks.

“Because you’re my best friend.” Brock whispers, each word carrying more weight than ever before. “But I don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.” He admits, a weight lifting off his shoulders as the words hang in the air for a moment.

He doesn’t have to say anything else because you know what it is right then. He is in love. With you.

“And you’re my best friend, but I want us to be more too.” Brock’s face practically lights up at your response, knowing that you feel the same way he does. It almost feels like a dream that after years, he doesn’t have to wonder anymore if you have fallen for him too.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks with a gentle voice as one hand settles on your hip before pulling you in closer. “We did somehow end up under the mistletoe.” He points up to where the collection of leaves are hanging in the entryway you’re both standing under. You can’t help but laugh at the sight and nothing but pure elation fills your heart.

“Yes, please.”

He cradles your cheek with one hand while the other stays on your hip, keeping you pressed against his body. You can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face before his lips catch yours in the softest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. The rough feel of his scruff against your smooth skin makes you giggle a little bit, which Brock responds to by deepening the kiss even more.

It’s absolutely perfect. You’ve dreamt of this exact moment more times than you’d like to admit, but it’s everything and more. And by the way Brock is holding you, it’s obvious he’s been waiting for this too.

When he reluctantly pulls away a few seconds later, there’s a new glimmer that you’ve never seen before in his bright blue eyes. He looks like the human form of sunshine right now and you can’t take it. You reach up to brush a lock of blonde hair back off of Brock’s forehead. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, a reminder that this is in fact real.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Brock murmurs, his smile just mere centimeters away from yours.

“I think I do.”

And without hesitation, you lean in to kiss him again. Once because it’s been a long night, twice because it’ll be alright, three times because you waited your whole life.

Before any fears or worries can creep in and ruin the moment, Brock wraps you up in a tight hug. Your head rests against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

“We’ll figure everything out. I promise.” He says calmly, somehow knowing what your next thought is going to be. “But it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t want to do anything else but enjoy being here with you.”

“I’ve never been so grateful for a snowstorm in my life.” You laugh, pure bliss humming through your body.

“Me either. Who would’ve thought that’s all it would’ve taken for this to finally happen?”

Later that night, when you’re snuggled up with Brock on the couch watching Home Alone while Coolie and Milo sleep nearby, you realize that you did in fact get to spend Christmas at home even though you didn’t make it back to Minnesota. Because Brock is home. Just being in his arms brings you the same kind of comfort and love you cherish so deeply.

Almost as if he can sense that you’re getting lost in your thoughts, Brock raises a brow in silent question when you look up at him. You just smile in response before leaning up to kiss his cheek which earns you a sweet grin.

“Merry Christmas, Brock.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Brock murmurs softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “So happy my Christmas wish came true this year.”

#brock boeser #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #brock boeser fic #brock boeser fics #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser blurb #brock boeser blurbs #brock boeser imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #brock boeser fluff #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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radiofreederry · 9 months

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Happy birthday, Fidel Castro! (August 13, 1926)

The longtime leader of the revolution in Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz was born in Birán to a well-off family. Castro was radicalized during his legal studies at the University of Havana, coming to embrace anti-imperialism and opposition to US interference in the Caribbean and Latin America. Castro traveled abroad to participate in rebellions against right-wing governments in the Dominican Republic and Colombia, before returning to Cuba and setting his sights on freeing it from right-wing rule and US domination. After an initial abortive rebellion against Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista failed, Castro spent several years in prison along with his comrades, who went on to form the nucleus of the 26th of July Movement. Released on amnesty, Castro went right back to revolutionary activity, spending time in exile. While away from Cuba, he met Che Guevara, who would go on to play a pivotal role in the revolution. On December 2, 1956, Castro landed with around 80 men on the Cuban shore, using a rickety and decrepit old yacht. The revolutionaries were ambushed by Batista's forces shortly thereafter, and their numbers slashed down to only around 20. From these 20 revolutionaries, Castro built up a revolutionary movement which swept Batista from power and liberated Cuba from imperialist control for the first time in history. Declaring himself a Marxist-Leninist, Castro went about radically transforming Cuba on a socialist model, instituting extensive land reform, a highly-effective literacy program, universal healthcare, and other such policies. He led Cuba through the heady early years of the revolution, in which the US constantly plotted to overthrow his government and assassinate him personally, through the Cuban Missile Crisis in which US bullishness came close to unleashing nuclear war, and through the end of the Cold War and the collapse of Cuba's ally the USSR. Castro instituted Cuba's celebrated policy of medical diplomacy, and in the Havana Declaration he expressed Cuba's intentions to support revolutionary movements abroad. Castro continued to lead Cuba until 2008, when he stepped down in favor of his brother Raul, and he died in 2016. Reviled in the United States and the imperial core, Castro remains a beloved and celebrated figure in the Global South, a symbol of anti-imperialism, resistance to US aggression, and hope for a better world.

"A revolution is not a trail of roses…. A revolution is a fight to the death between the future and the past."

#birthdays #fidel castro

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breelandwalker · 5 months

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Frost Moon - November 26-27, 2023

Grab your scarves and mittens, witches - it's time for the Frost Moon!

Frost Moon

The Frost Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of November. In temperate zones in the Northern Hemisphere, November is the month during which the first frost or first hard freeze of the season is usually observed.

Like most full moon names, this is an English translation of a traditional name used by one or more North American indigenous groups, in this case the Cree and the Assiniboine. Similarly, the Anishinaabe and the Ojibwe also called this month the Freezing Moon or Freezing Over Moon respectively, as indigenous naming conventions usually refer to the entire lunar month and not just the full moon itself. Other indigenous names include Deer Rutting Moon (Dakota and Lakota), Whitefish Moon (Algonquin), Leaf Fall Moon (Catawba), and Digging (or Scratching) Moon (Tlingit). The latter refers to the habit of deer and other creatures scratching up the ground to find hidden food caches, as well as bears digging their dens for winter hibernation.

Another common name for this month's full moon is the Beaver Moon, due to the increased sightings of these busy little creatures shoring up their dams and food stores before the first hard freeze of winter. (Unfortunately, it's also a reference to the peak days of the North American fur trade, signaling the optimal hunting time for beaver pelts.)

In some modern pagan traditions, particularly those claiming Celtic lineage, the November moon is also called the Mourning Moon. This occurs when the November moon is the final full moon before the winter solstice. In 2023, the November is indeed a Mourning Moon, as the December full moon falls on the 26th, a good few days after the solstice. (I was not able to find an original source for this claim, but given the celebration of the beloved dead in October, a subsequent period of mourning and remembrance makes sense. It may also be a reference to the Catholic All Souls Day, but that's just speculation.)

This particular Frost Moon will be at peak fullness in the early hours of November 27th (4:16am EST), so the moon may appear to be full on both Sunday the 26th and Monday the 27th, depending on where you live.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

This is the month when migrations are finishing up, animals are finishing their cold weather preparations, the temperature starts to plummet, and fall descends rapidly into winter. If you haven't finished your preparations for winter, mundane or magical, this is probably your last chance to do it. (Don't forget to prioritize and delegate!)

With the days getting shorter and the nights getting colder, the temptation to hunker down and hibernate is STRONG. But we have to remember that just like the eponymous Beaver, humans have to stay active during the cold months. Start stockpiling ways to keep yourself busy and motivated, since that Seasonal Slump is on the horizon for many of us.

Consider also the beaver's dam. You've spent the whole year working towards all kinds of goals. Is there still something blocking your way? What might it be and how can you best address and remove the obstacle? Or, alternatively, is it time to stop and rest and see if that roadblock will clear itself with a little time and patience?

In keeping with the Mourning Moon moniker, this could be a good time for reflection and remembrance. Think back on what you've built this year and take time to be proud of yourself. Remember what is dear to you, take a moment to miss someone who is gone, and consider rekindling bonds that may have lapsed or grown tenuous during the hustle and bustle of daily life. It's always a good time to tell someone you love them.

On a practical note, if you have pets that regularly stay outdoors overnight, start bringing them inside or make sure they have a shelter that is properly warm, clean, and secure against human or animal intruders. If it's too chilly for you to be out without a coat, it's too chilly for the critters, fur or no fur. PLEASE do not leave your furry friends out in the cold!

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

As we prepare for winter, this is an excellent time to shore up those magical protections. Check on your longterm spells to see if they need refreshing, or just go ahead and do a quick cleanse-and-reclaim as a proactive measure. Even if everything is solid, practice your technique by shoring up points of egress or adding a new layer to the existing wards or trying a new visualization or method for personal protections. Create a new charm or talisman to carry you through the winter or make something festive and decorative that could be given as a gift.

On the subject of cleansing, this is a good time to clear out any stale or disruptive energy that might be lingering from the recent change of seasons. Solstices can be times of transformation, but change is rarely a calm or peaceful process and it brings its' own set of challenges and upheavals. If things have gotten a little more chaotic than you'd like, take a moment to put your house in order, metaphysically speaking.

If you're partial to jar spells, consider putting one together to help maintain safety and abundance through the winter months. If you're going to be traveling for the upcoming holidays, a bit of luck and protection for the journey wouldn't go amiss either.

Try a frost divination. If your area is starting to see overnight frosts, take a moment in the morning to examine the patterns that the frost leaves on the windows of your home or vehicle. Do you see any patterns or images in the ice crystals? Check the weather forecast and whisper a question into the wind when the overnight temps will drop below freezing. Then in the morning, see if there's an answer waiting for you!

Happy Frost Moon, witches! 🌕❄

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts

Full Moon November 2023: The Beaver Moon's Spectacular Spiritual Meaning, The Peculiar Brunette.

Beaver Moon: Full Moon in November 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Beaver Full Moon in November - Buckle and Hocken, TimeAndDate.com.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Credit - iStockPhoto.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #pagan #lunar magic #moon magic #full moon #Beaver Moon #Frost Moon #lunar calendar #witchy things

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

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One of America’s most corporate-crime-friendly bankruptcy judges forced to recuse himself

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

"I’ll believe corporations are people when Texas executes one." The now-famous quip from Robert Reich cuts to the bone of corporate personhood. Corporations are people with speech rights. They are heat-shields that absorb liability on behalf of their owners and managers.

But the membrane separating corporations from people is selectively permeable. A corporation is separate from its owners, who are not liable for its deeds – but it can also be "closely held," and so inseparable from those owners that their religious beliefs can excuse their companies from obeying laws they don't like:

https://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/2014/10/13/hobby-lobby-and-closely-held-corporations/

Corporations – not their owners – are liable for their misdeeds (that's the "limited liability" in "limited liablity corporation"). But owners of a murderous company can hold their victims' families hostage and secure bankruptcies for their companies that wipe out their owners' culpability – without any requirement for the owners to surrender their billions to the people they killed and maimed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Corporations are, in other words, a kind of Schroedinger's Cat for impunity: when it helps the ruling class, corporations are inseparable from their owners; when that would hinder the rich and powerful, corporations are wholly distinct entities. They exist in a state of convenient superposition that collapses only when a plutocrat opens the box and decides what is inside it. Heads they win, tails we lose.

Key to corporate impunity is the rigged bankruptcy system. "Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid," so every successful civilization has some system for discharging debt, or it risks collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/bankruptcy-protects-fake-people-brutalizes-real-ones/

When you or I declare bankruptcy, we have to give up virtually everything and endure years (or a lifetime) of punitive retaliation based on our stained credit records, and even then, our student debts continue to haunt us, as do lawless scumbag debt-collectors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/12/do-not-pay/#fair-debt-collection-practices-act

When a giant corporation declares bankruptcy, by contrast, it emerges shorn of its union pension obligations and liabilities owed to workers and customers it abused or killed, and continues merrily on its way, re-offending at will. Big companies have mastered the Texas Two-Step, whereby a company creates a subsidiary that inherits all its liabilities, but not its assets. The liability-burdened company is declared bankrupt, and the company's sins are shriven at the bang of a judge's gavel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

Three US judges oversee the majority of large corporate bankruptcies, and they are so reliable in their deference to this scheme that an entire industry of high-priced lawyers exists solely to game the system to ensure that their clients end up before one of these judges. When the Sacklers were seeking to abscond with their billions in opioid blood-money and stiff their victims' families, they set their sights on Judge Robert Drain in the Southern District of New York:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/23/a-bankrupt-process/#sacklers

To get in front of Drain, the Sacklers opened an office in White Plains, NY, then waited 192 days to file bankruptcy papers there (it takes six months to establish jurisdiction). Their papers including invisible metadata that identified the case as destined for Judge Drain's court, in a bid to trick the court's Case Management/Electronic Case Files system to assign the case to him.

The case was even pre-captioned "RDD" ("Robert D Drain"), to nudge clerks into getting their case into a friendly forum.

If the Sacklers hadn't opted for Judge Drain, they might have set their sights on the Houston courthouse presided over by Judge David Jones, the second of of the three most corporate-friendly large bankruptcy judges. Judge Jones is a Texas judge – as in "Texas Two-Step" – and he has a long history of allowing corporate murderers and thieves to escape with their fortunes intact and their victims penniless:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#shoppers-choice

But David Jones's reign of error is now in limbo. It turns out that he was secretly romantically involved with Elizabeth Freeman, a leading Texas corporate bankruptcy lawyer who argues Texas Two-Step cases in front of her boyfriend, Judge David Jones.

Judge Jones doesn't deny that he and Freeman are romantically involved, but said that he didn't think this fact warranted disclosure – let alone recusal – because they aren't married and "he didn't benefit economically from her legal work." He said that he'd only have to disclose if the two owned communal property, but the deed for their house lists them as co-owners:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24032507-general-warranty-deed

(Jones claims they don't live together – rather, he owns the house and pays the utility bills but lets Freeman live there.)

Even if they didn't own communal property, judges should not hear cases where one of the parties is represented by their long term romantic partner. I mean, that is a weird sentence to have to type, but I stand by it.

The case that led to the revelation and Jones's stepping away from his cases while the Fifth Circuit investigates is a ghastly – but typical – corporate murder trial. Corizon is a prison healthcare provider that killed prisoners with neglect, in the most cruel and awful ways imaginable. Their families sued, so Corizon budded off two new companies: YesCare got all the contracts and other assets, while Tehum Care Services got all the liabilities:

https://ca.finance.yahoo.com/news/prominent-bankruptcy-judge-david-jones-033801325.html

Then, Tehum paid Freeman to tell her boyfriend, Judge Jones, to let it declare bankruptcy, leaving $173m for YesCare and allocating $37m for the victims suing Tehum. Corizon owes more than $1.2b, "including tens of millions of dollars in unpaid invoices and hundreds of malpractice suits filed by prisoners and their families who have alleged negligent care":

https://www.kccllc.net/tehum/document/2390086230522000000000041

Under the deal, if Corizon murdered your family member, you would get $5,000 in compensation. Corizon gets to continue operating, using that $173m to prolong its yearslong murder spree.

The revelation that Jones and Freeman are lovers has derailed this deal. Jones is under investigation and has recused himself from his cases. The US Trustee – who represents creditors in bankruptcy cases – has intervened to block the deal, calling Tehum "a barren estate, one that was stripped of all of its valuable assets as a result of the combination and divisional mergers that occurred prior to the bankruptcy filing."

This is the third high-profile sleazy corporate bankruptcy that had victory snatched from the jaws of defeat this year: there was Johnson and Johnson's attempt to escape from liability from tricking women into powder their vulvas with asbestos (no, really), the Sacklers' attempt to abscond with billions after kicking off the opioid epidemic that's killed 800,000+ Americans and counting, and now this one.

This one might be the most consequential, though – it has the potential to eliminate one third of the major crime-enabling bankruptcy judges serving today.

One down.

Two to go.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

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dearly-somber · 4 months

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Heat Stroke | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, fluff, eventual romance, mutual (👀) pining, f2l (friends-to-lovers) humor, found family, high school!au, eventual smut

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 836

-> warnings. Nothing other than some suggestiveness I think

-> a/n. This is my favorite installment :>

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Oct. 26th, 2022 @ 13:34

-> fin. Sat., Jun. 10th, 2023 @ 23:04

-> edited. Tues., Nov. 14th, 2023 @ 12:44

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

There’s always that one summer-day where it’s so hot you genuinely think the only way to escape the heat would be to somehow remove your skin and then everything underneath it.

Today is that day. And you just so happen to be spending it with an equally uncomfortably-sweaty shifter named Jeon Jungkook.

His white tank top sticks to his skin as sweat (quite literally) drips down his exposed sides. His thighs strain against a pair of black basketball shorts, and his comforter lay kicked off the side of the bed to make as much room for fresh air as possible.

You lay in a similar state: your short-shorts barely cover the top halves of your thighs and you’ve rolled your tank-top until just below your breasts in an effort to leave as much of your sweaty skin open to the single fan placed desperately at the foot of the bed.

“I’m gonna die,” Jungkook moans loudly, throwing an arm over his face. You look over at him with an amused snort. His shirt has ridden up, showing off the skin at his waist.

You try and glide your eyes quickly over the sight of his abs so he doesn’t notice you staring.

You watch as a drop of sweat runs down his side and resist the urge to push your hand under the slit in his shirt to run your palm over his stomach. You shake your head free of that fantasy immediately, blaming your inappropriate train of thoughts on heat stroke. (A more honest part of yourself knows it’s because seeing Jungkook sweaty and frustrated is doing things to you.)

“I hate summer,” you groan, turning on your stomach in an effort to air out the sweat collecting between your shoulder blades and the small of your back.

“I wish the river was closer.” Jungkook sighs, his eyes still covered by his arm. He grabs one side of the waistband of his shorts and pushes it down until it’s barely around his hips. Your eyes glue themselves to his v-line for a few seconds before you force them closed.

“No way in hell I’m walking an hour in this heat to go swimming,” you say. Your heat-stroked brain comes up with the tempting idea to strip yourself down to your underthings. It’s not like you have anything to be embarrassed about—you’re wearing a matching set of underwear, and though you have some fat around your lower abdomen (uterus-wielder things, amiright?), you’ve never been too bothered by it. Especially not when you’re getting so hot you feel like you’re about to melt into a Y/N-shaped puddle of sweat.

Besides, it’s not like you’re trying to impress anybody…

You briefly open your eyes and deduce that Jungkook isn’t faring much better. His shorts sit dangerously low on his hips (you swear he pushed them down even further) and he has a hand up his shirt, over his stomach.

You really couldn’t give fewer craps when you say, “Okay, fuck this shit,” and sit up to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a black sports bra. As much as you wish you could take them off, you decide to keep your shorts on for the sake of decency (and societal standards for states-of-undress with your completely platonic male best friend).

“Just take off your shirt, Kook,” you say as you lay down again, already feeling much better without your shirt sticking to your skin.

“You could’ve just asked if you wanted to see me shirtless.” Jungkook grins, sitting up to reach behind him and tug his shirt over his head. He sighs when the cool-ish air from the fan hits his sides and chest, laying back down next to you.

“Ha ha.” You roll your eyes. Trust in Jungkook to be an annoying (albeit correct) little shit even in 37°C (98,6°F) heat. “Don’t get too excited, pup.”

He turns to look at you and whines. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“Why not?” You don’t bother hiding the incredulousness in your voice. “It’s cute! It’s better than bunny.” You nudge his bicep with your elbow.

He scoffs. “Bunny fits you perfectly.”

“Yeah? Name one thing that makes me a bunny.” You push yourself onto your elbow so you can look at him better.

“You’re skittish and jump at the smallest sounds—almost more than Jin hyung does. When you chew you chew quickly and kind of to the side of your cheek. When someone calls you, you look up in the way rabbits do when they think they heard something dange—“

You gently push his cheek to the side, unable to stop your smile at his adorably delighted giggle. “Okay, okay, I get it. You can stop, now.”

He grins and closes his eyes, his hands intertwined on his lower stomach. “Whatever you say, Bunny.”

You scrunch your nose disapprovingly. “If anything, you’re the bunny with your cute little nose scrunches and bunny smiles—“

“You think I’m cute?”

“Jeon Jungkook I swear—“

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eggtartz · 6 months

Text

✧ 26th October ✧

Sanji Vinsmoke // "Bon Appetit!" (f! strawhat crew reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : ice play, sanji wants his women satisfied, uhm ice goes into the coochie

having a relationship with the sanji vinsmoke is honestly going great for you. the food is great, the way he treats you is even better. it's a stable relationship between you and him and you can not ask for anything more. well, except for one thing. given how lewd and perverted sanji is around women, you really thought he's a beast in bed. that perception changed when you got into a relationship with him and safe to say that it's bland.

like bland as hell.

the sex was always vanilla and the most extreme thing he has done is probably fingering you dry. this had to change and you're determined. waking up that day, you marched pass the other crews while blossoming them a smile. you arrived at the kitchen where sanji was humming while cooking breakfast. "good morning y/n-swan! breakfast is almost ready, do let the others know and sit down, yes?" he said sweetly, you're almost sorry.

"sanji, I don't feel like having breakfast today" you pressed yourself against his body, making sure he feels how erected your nipples are. you wanted him to lose control, to let go. sanji almost choked at the sight of your boobs almost spilling out from your top and he can see your nipple through it. "y/n.. d-did you not wear anything underneath?"

"wanna find out?" you purred, calling him in like a siren calling for the sailor. you were going to make sure the sailor wrecked his ship today. You pulled his loose tie as his cigarette fell from his lips at the directness. "come, my room's empty. we can do more" you purred again as sanji's eyes changed into hearts as he drooled over your seductions. as the time you two arrived at your room, you puled down his coat blue shirt as you took off your top. sanji's nose bleed at the beautiful sights of your tits, almost cooing when he gets ahold of them. "y/n-swan's breasts are the best! so soft, squishy!" he muttered, gently lapping on them and tweaking the bud. "sanji!" you whimpered as he squished two boobs to fit in his mouth.

you backed up bit by bit until eventually you two fell on the plush bed. "i actually have something to say, sanji.." you jolted between words as his mouth wrapped around your nipple. "yeah? What is it?" he asked, eyes closed. "i wanna spice things up when we have sex" you blurted that his tongue stopped. "were you not satisfied before, my love?" he looked up to you, a tinge of hurt in his tone. "no! it's just, okay, fine. it isn't sanji.. i never get excited and usually i get bored than excited" you sat up to look at him properly. "is that selfish?" you asked gently, not wanting to offend him. "absolutely not. i'm glad that you stated it, dear. as a gentleman, i feel ashamed to leave you unsatisfied. tell me, what plans do you have? i'm in board!" he smiled as you sighed in relief.

"uh, could you masturbate while i play with myself?" sanji was more than eager, pulling out his dick from his briefs. meanwhile, you bent down under your breath and pulled out a bucket. sanji didn't questioned the contents but he could see a bunch of ice in there along with a bottle of wine.

you spread your legs, revealing your bare cunt for him to see. "do you have a clear view?" you asked and was answered with a moan "the best view" sanji bought his hand up and down his cock, spitting on his hand. you took one ice and circled them around your pussy lips and sanji almost came.

almost.

sanji grunted, squeezing his dick as the ice swirled around your folds and he had this urge to put his tongue there too. "y/n.." he said under his breath. you smiled and when the ice melted, you slip it inside of you and it popped back out when you clenched. sanji was amazed with the show, his balls have never felt this tight before and he was itching to touch you and fuck you raw. a daze was clouding his head of how good your pussy must feel right now.

you teased him, the ice resembling a circle going in and out your pussy with easy as another hand of yours circled another ice around your clit. you throw your head back, the coldness from the ice and sanji's piercing eyes drilling holes into your gushing cunt was arousing you tremendously. "are you looking, sanji? how my pussy gets wet from the ice?" he was jacking off with concentration, sweat on his forehead. "i can see, y/n. it's so hot.. so fucking hot" he growled. "and it can be like that without ice, you know?" you said again as sanji smiled. "you're right darling."

he moved himself, plunging his dick inside your pussy with the ice still inside. "sanji!" you yelped but he was already thrusting and already found a steady but punishing pace, "i was foolish to not see how you were unsatisfied, y/n. let me help" he dribbled spit on your lower tips, as you wrapped your legs around him. "oh, sanji!" you moaned when his cock pushed the ice deep in your gut, the feeling of it slowly melting away was making you mushy "thank you for telling me, y/n" he whispered, spitting on his palm and rubbing your stiff clitoris as you mewled.

"you won't regret it!" he grunted, his cock disappearing inside and out of you. his thrusts were brutal and fast as you saw stars and feel your climax knocking in. "i'm gonna cum, sanji!" you huff as he went faster. "do it, y/n. i need to feel it.. i never felt it before but now i'll make sure you cum until you can't!" he bullied his seed inside you, melting with the ice as you came with your eyes rolled back. "that was.. so good.. mmh." sanji placed his fingers inside, gently scooping out the remaining ice as he placed it on his tongue and kissed you. the ice was passed on to each other mouths as drool dribbled under the chin and the ice completely dissolves. "i hope you're satisfied, y/n-swan" he panted against your lips. "oh you left me satisfied indeed" you purred, holding his face as you two kissed again.

#one piece imagine #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji one piece #sanji smut #sanji imagine #sanji op

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seraphdreams · 2 years

Text

FOREVER. | RAN HAITANI.

ღ SYNOPSIS. you’d do just about anything to please your husband, especially on his birthday.

ღ CONTAINS. fem!reader, husband!ran, bonten!au, praise, slight alcohol mention, love-making, ran being pussydrunk/pussywhipped, slight breeding, daddy kink, pet names of “doll” and “princess”, cockwarming, and some fluff :(. 18+ mdni.

ღ WORD COUNT. 2.2k

ღ AUTHOR’S NOTE. THANK YOU @bvnnichuu FOR BETA READING!! where would i be without you? i just wanted to conjure up something cute and simple for my baby daddy’s (belated) birthday🥺 trying to get back into the swing of writing.

listen to the first half of this song, i just think it fits the vibe idk!!

May 26th; Ran’s birthday. You had been preparing for the day for almost a month now, trying to conjure up any piece of information regarding what he wanted as a gift. He's humble—too damn humble. He would always tell you with a smile on his pretty face that he didn’t want anything, that having you is enough. Of course, being as stubborn as you are, you still decided to opt for a present. You wanted him to feel as special as he makes you feel.

It’s currently a few hours past dawn and you’re in nothing but an apron, cooking up a light breakfast for your affectionate husband. You make sure to diligently flip his omelette while keeping an eye on the toaster to ensure that the bread inside doesn’t burn.

“Up early, baby?”

Ran’s raspy morning voice startles you. You assumed he was still sleeping so that you’d be able to wake him up with breakfast in bed. The sounds of sonorous pan-clanging and your sweet humming voice must’ve caused him to awaken. He wraps his lengthy, yet toned, arms around your waist, the feeling of his bare chest creating liminal heat against your bare back.

“Mhm, I wanted to make you some breakfast for your birthday.” You respond, shifting slightly to plate his food. He backs away to place a kiss on your cheek while murmuring “thank you,” into your ear as his eyes scan the ceramic plate filled with food. “All this for me?”

Of course it was, you always treated your husband like he was some sort of heavenless angel, despite his gruesome way of making income. It didn’t matter as long as he treated you amorously, he could do just about anything and you’d still love him.

A soft “mhm” reverberates from your throat as you move to the dining room to set his things down. “I tried not to make too much because we have reservations later tonight and—Oh!” You shuffle quickly to the coffee maker, turning it on and placing a mug under it. “I almost forgot your coffee, Ran. That's what you get for distracting me.” He chuckles at your quiet hmph.

It was so cute how much you doted on him, you were always like that, and it felt good to you to have someone to care for, even when he insists he can do it himself.

You were just what he needed; someone who’d love him despite his hardships and remind him that, at the end of the day, he’s still human.

He sits himself down at the table, watching as you make your way to him with his coffee in your hand, made just how he likes it. “C’mere, doll” He pats his thigh and after you put the mug onto the coaster, you settle yourself on his lap, facing him.

Pretty doe-eyes lock onto his downturned lavender ones. “You’re not gonna eat anything, sweetheart?” He queries, to which you shake your head. “Already ate.”

The hand rested on your waist nestles between your thighs, his nimble fingers carding through your folds while his thumb takes purchase on your clit, slowly circling. “T-thought you were gonna eat?” You rasp, trying not to give into the pleasure just yet. “I am, baby; need t’get you all wet to cockwarm me.” The fingers by your heat quickly make their way under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough so that his rigid length springs free. Every time he’d whip his cock out, you’d get immense butterflies in your stomach at just the sight. He was so long with the perfect thickness and a crown that gleamed mauve, you practically drool at the sight.

You move your hands to his shoulders for leverage as you hover above his cock. He sets both his large hands at your hips and pushes you down, letting out a hiss once the warmth of your taut pussy engulfs him.

The rest of the morning is spent against his chest, hearing his heartbeat as he eats while trying to remain still in his lap. Every so often, he’d bounce your hips up once or twice to tease you, he found palpable joy in watching you get needy for him.

The morning sun dissipates into a brighter, warmer luminescence as the afternoon hits. After breakfast, you both decided to sleep in a bit until it was time to get ready for dinner. As much as Ran hated to admit, he was extremely high maintenance. He’d always been meticulous about his appearance which caused him to take almost as long as you to get dressed. He made sure his earrings matched his cufflinks, his suit was pressed and tailored accordingly and not a hair was out of place. That’s what you loved about him; he always looked like money, and smelled fucking rich.

“Princess,” He calls, fiddling with the fabric around his neck. You were caught up in applying your mascara but through the mirror you could make out his silhouette. “My tie?”

He’s more than capable of doing it himself, he does it plenty of times for work but it was something about the way you’d tie his tie that made his heart swell, you looked so cute all focused.

No time was wasted when you went up to him, taking the fabric from his hands and pulling him down to match your height more accurately. While you loop the tie and tighten it, you find it hard to take your mind off the fact that the man that dawned over you was so very fine — beyond the word attractive, and the scent of his signature Yves Saint Laurent cologne wafting through the air only made you dizzier.

“‘m all done.” You say meekly, dusting your manicured fingers over his broad shoulders to get rid of any impurities. A chaste kiss is pressed to your lips as he mumbles out, “Thank you, baby.”

After 15 minutes of adding the final touches to your looks, it was finally time to get on the road. you had paid his personal chauffeur to make the commute from your Roppongi apartment to a restaurant deep within the heart of Shinjuku, possibly an establishment already owned by Bonten.

Dinner went exceptionally well. You had reserved a private room for the two of you and were treated to all sorts of dishes and expensive wines. It was relieving to finally find a day where Ran wasn’t busy with work or handling other business, it seemed even luckier that that day was also his birthday which made the plans you had set for him play out smoothly.

“Happy Birthday, Ran.” You raise your glass upwards toward him and he clinks his own against yours, a soft, pure smile quirking at his features. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

Now at home and in the comfort of your bedroom, you slowly slip off the silk dress that hugged your figure, revealing to Ran who was seated at the edge of the bed, the lilac colored lingerie that seemed suspiciously similar to the set he had once stated he’d love to see you in. A low whistle is sounded from him as he stands up and slowly treads to where you’re located by the vanity. “And just when I thought the night couldn’t get any better. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, princess?”

Heat grows within your core as his hands trail up and down your sides while he simultaneously dips in for a kiss, slotting his tongue between your plump and glossy lips. He deepens the kiss and swirls his tongue around yours, good enough to the point where you don’t notice how he hooks his hands under your knees. Pulling you up to carry you, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over your frame.

You’d been concealing your neediness for the whole day and finally, as his fingers hook under the lace of your panties, you could drop the facade. He slides the undergarment down and off your legs before spreading them and situating himself between your thighs, eyes fixed on the gleam of your slick folds.

“So fuckin’ wet for daddy, hm? Needed me that bad?”

You nod desperately, hole clenching around nothing as his breath fans against it. “Mhm, j-just wanna please you, daddy..”

A smirk pulls at his lips before he’s delving his tongue into your core, fucking it in and out of your fluttering hole. His nose nudges at your clit unintentionally and you can’t help but cry out at the pleasure. “Daddy! too good!”

He picks up his pace, replacing the sensation of his tongue with his nimble fingers, plunging two of them inside you and curling them up against your walls. You place your hands in his hair, slightly tugging on the purple strands as he wraps his lips around the nub of your clit, sucking gently.

With every gentle swipe of his tongue and motion of his fingers, it urges you closer until you physically can’t take it, the build up of the coil within you snapping as you cream over his digits. He pulls his lips away, still fingering you through orgasm. “One more, baby. Give daddy one more.”

You comply, nodding your head and allowing him to ebb on another singe of pleasure for you. The overstimulation causes your thighs to twitch and cunt to clamp down around his dexterous fingers that continuously reach deeper inside your walls, bullying that same spot. Ran uses his thumb to circle at your sensitive clit while he gently kisses the expanse of your inner thighs.

“So pretty, baby. All mine.” His whispers are hushed into the plush fat that safeguarded the haven his fingers were stuffed in. “All yours, daddy. No one e-else’s.”

He smiles at that. The fact that no matter what, you’ll always be his. Even if the thoughts you voice are just mindless babbles of pleasure; To hear that you’re only his creates a torrent within him.

It took no time for your orgasm to build up inside you when he consistently praises you over how well you’re doing for him. Docile hymns of “That’s it, baby” and “You can take it” are bounced off the four walls that made up your bedroom. Your mind is too occupied on the sensation that your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, a slew of pitchy moans being let out in its onslaught.

He slowly removes his fingers from your core, popping the digits into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. “So fuckin’ sweet, doll.” He leans over to place a kiss to your lips where you taste the saccharinity of your own essence.

Briefly, he pulls away to remove the articles of clothing that confined his hard, leaking length. You watch, only growing needier, as his nimble fingers fumbled with loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and doing away with the pesky belt at his hips. From the fervent look in your eyes, he could tell that you were beyond desperate for him.

He flips you over onto your stomach while stroking his rigid length in one hand before lining himself up with your hole. His body is practically flush against yours, safe for him resting his weight onto his forearms on either side of your body. “R-ran..” You wince, feeling his cock stretch you out slowly as he sheathes himself within you.

You’re tight and extremely warm. Ran couldn’t get over how your pussy always seemed to welcome him in the best way, and with the position you’re both in, it’s only that more enjoyable.

Out. In. Steadily, slowly.

The pace he set was intimate, as if he were savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. Shallow groans and labored breaths are fanned against your ear when he decides to gradually pick up the pace. You grasp at the pillows beneath you in an attempt to ground yourself, brows furrowing and eyes shut from pleasure.

“I love you, baby. Y’mean the world to me.”

His larger hands rest atop yours, fingers intertwining between your own. His groans slowly morph into soft moans as he slurs and babbles into the crook of your neck, drunkenly.

“..Love you so much.”

“You feel so good.”

“Can’t live, fuck, without you.”

“I need you. I need you so bad.”

“Don’t leave me, please.”

Every vocable he spewed sunk into the next and fueled the ecstasy within you. “N-never gonna leave you, daddy. ‘m yours forever.”

Ran liked that word; forever, because forever never existed to him. Nothing in his life was constant until he met you, the person who kept him going, who encouraged him to be a better man. In a way, you were his forever.

His breath hitches and you can tell from the faltering of his hips that he was close, just as you were. One of his hands shifts from yours to in between your legs, rubbing at your clit. “Cum for daddy, baby. Make a mess.”

And you did just that.

There's a visible translucent white ring at the base of his cock when you finally let go, your moans being muffled into the pillow. He follows suit soon after, coating your insides with his seed.

There’s comfortable silence in the time that it takes for him to untangle from your limbs and flip you over into a new position.

It’s his day, and he’ll take advantage of your gratuitousness. Who knows? He might even breed you until your tiny hole can’t take another load. Pretty sweet gift, right?

reblogs are widely appreciated!

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @getougeko @koucaine @imkumichan @messofavs @bekky06 @ack3rlevi @aotdump @denkis-slut @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @stffychn @carriix @nalyana @yooniluvbot444 @ren-simp @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @sftbunnyy

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loki-cees-all · 2 months

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Ch. 4 - Hope Against Hope {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : After you and Loki do the deed, Loki does a little soul-searching.

W/c : 4.7k words

Content / Warnings : Smut (p-in-v), angst (knife-in-heart), mentions of a future addiction for the reader (nothing specific is mentioned, and no actual use of illicit substances ever takes place), and Loki rifling through all of your stuff. It's fine, though! He has a good reason!

Author's Note : Apologies this is so late! It really, really got away from me, and I was absolutely struggling to get it done. But, it turns out I was just trying to do too much in one chapter, so once I cut it off at what was the halfway point, it became much more manageable. (Major shoutout to @infinitystoner for helping me with that. I love you!) Anyway, happy reading!

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 26th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

Throughout his thousand years of existence, Loki had witnessed a great deal of beautiful things. The golden shine of the palace he’d grown up in was the first; its light reflected brighter than the birth of a newborn star, shining down with a brilliance unrivaled to anything short of divine intervention.

Every morning, he’d awake in awe of its splendor, and every night, when he laid his head upon his pillow, he’d wonder if anyone else ever noticed the terrible irony of such a gorgeous place containing the harshest of people.

The exquisite gardens of Asgard had always been his favorite place to be. Carefully tended to and guided by his mother’s loving hand, they contained every species of flower from each of the Nine Realms - meticulously organized by the shade of their petals, and perpetually in bloom thanks to her seidr.

It was the perfect place for reflection; he had spent many late nights in those gardens, wandering up and down the rows, taking in the sweet aroma of the flowers and pondering his lot in life. And during the worst of Thanos’ many tortures, he’d often imagine he was back there inside Frigga’s gardens - shielded and protected, and lost in majesty instead of in pain.

And the stunning destruction of the Bifrost would haunt him for the rest of his days. The explosion’s light caught the shards of the Rainbow Bridge and almost blinded him, illuminating nothing but his many failures in the most glorious of ways as he fell into its wake. The Bifrost had faded into golden dust, and clouds of sapphire and ultramarine had swirled together beneath him, and it was so magnificent that he almost forgot about the look of sheer disappointment upon his father’s face.

But none of those things, not a single one of them, could ever compare to the sight of you coming undone beneath his devoted tongue.

Loki continued working, his mouth and eyes eagerly taking in the evidence of your pleasure. His hands gripped your waist tight, as if to squeeze out every ounce of it that he could, while his lips and tongue lavished your clit. He’d never tasted something so divine, and he never wanted your pleasure to end.

You cried out his name like the holiest of prayers, and Loki moaned its accompaniment. He could almost see the light radiating off your skin as your back arched off the bed, and the blood in his veins surged with want as your thighs trembled against his ears. He desperately needed more, to keep you sated and satisfied in euphoria for as long as he could - but he also needed to be careful.

Because as far as you knew, Loki was just another simple mortal - one that had a job, and a family, and paid taxes. A human man, one that played rugby on the weekends, someone who was going to die in about forty years - when he was actually the furthest from anything that even resembledbanality.

Ordinarily, in situations like this, Loki’s seidr would be on full display - to set the mood by lighting the fire in the hearth and the candles on the nightstand. To keep the wine flowing in their glasses, and the sheets warm against your bare skin. To remove his clothing in a flash of green light, just so he could bury himself inside you the exact second he wanted to.

And Gods, how he helplessly wanted to be inside you again.

Loki hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since the night in the alleyway. It had been feral and hurried, dangerous and reckless, to take you against that wall and in public, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the best he’d ever had. And it was so foolish of himself to think he could get by with only having you once, and so incredibly selfish to take you again while knowing what he knew about your future…

But even still, Loki’s cock ached underneath his trousers, throbbing in sync with every single beat of his heart. Desire coursed violently throughout his veins, mixing with both heat and adrenaline as he continued ravishing between your legs. He could feel you clenching rhythmically, your fingers tangling in his hair and your hips grinding upwards, and he could never deny you what you wanted.

You were just past the height of ecstasy when Loki began to crawl up your body, following behind his lips as they worshiped your skin. He kissed his way up your belly, gazing up at your ethereal expression as your head lolled back and forth on the pillow. Aftershocks washed over you, one by one, and your lips parted with desperate breath and pleasured murmurs. It was beautiful, and perfect, and of nothing but sheer divinity.

Loki kept his gaze locked on your face as he slowly kissed along your ribs, and your feet flexed, pressing into his hips as yours continued writhing. Your fingers curled tighter around his hair, a silent plea to urge him on, and he couldn’t believe that even after all of this, even while completely lost in the throes of ecstasy, you still wanted more of him.

His initial plan had been to take you as slowly as possible - to savor, and to idolize you. He’d never been wanted like this before, and he didn’t know if this would be the last time he’d get to experience it. A lifetime of neglect had taught him affection was ever fleeting, and he should always relish it whenever it came. What little patience he had was quickly disappearing by the second, soon to be nothing but a distant memory of the time before he was whole again.

Your eyes stayed closed as his name tumbled from your lips, and Loki knew this was the moment. He kept one hand clutched tight around your hip, and brought the other down to his belt, unbuckling it just enough to make a sound before his seidr dissolved the remaining clothing from his body and transported them to the floor, as if they’d been tossed aside in a hurry.

He moved upwards again, and when he reached your nipple and pulled it into his mouth, you whimpered in pleasure and dragged your nails across his scalp. A deep groan rumbled in his throat and he began to suck harder, flicking his tongue wildly against the stiffening peak. This time you let out a sharp gasp, and your feet planted on the mattress to arch your back even more and press your hips against something, anything, of his.

Loki graciously slid his thigh up to soothe the ache between your quivering legs, and you eagerly locked on to it, grinding your swollen clit against his taut muscles. You had been more than wet when he had gone down on you before, but now you were positively drenched with arousal, and Loki loved that about you. He’d never been so hard in his life, precum dripping onto your belly from the head of his glistening cock as the musk of sex filled the room.

Your head tilted back into the pillow and your thighs trembled violently, supported only by your tiptoes and your upper back as another orgasm ripped through you. Loki cupped your other breast, his thumb circling its nipple as he sucked even harder on the first, trying desperately to hold back his own ecstasy until he was buried deep inside you.

But that battle was becoming more and more difficult to win, and his equanimity was dissipating with each and every one of your breathless moans and whimpers. Loki moved his hands to carefully guide your feet flat, and then massaged your calves and thighs into relaxing as he carefully pulled his lips away from your nipple.

As he moved closer, your hands shifted to cling to his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Anything you could read, everything about him that was solid and real. He wanted so badly to assure you that he was, to shout it from the rooftops that he wasn’t just real, that he was - in fact - yours, and that was the only real thing that mattered.

Loki’s lips were on your collarbone when he finally coaxed your legs into position, relaxed but open for him. You were making unintelligible noises and your body continued trembling, but your hips kept rolling as he slowly settled his weight onto you and pressed his hips against yours.

“Loki…oh my, God, Loki…” you gasped breathlessly, sliding your hands up along his neck to his hair, to tangle in the mess of matted and sweaty curls against his scalp.

His breath shuddered as he gazed upon you, eyelids fluttering open and shut, and pupils dilated so wide to take him all in. His lips hovered just a touch above yours, inhaling as you exhaled, leaning in as you pulled him closer. He wasn’t running or cowering away, there was no fleeing or escaping. For the first time since the Tesseract had slid to his feet in the lobby of Stark Tower, Loki was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Yes, my darling…I’m here, just breathe…” he whispered, dragging his nose along the edge of yours. His voice shifted into a groan as you wrapped your legs around his waist; the soft skin of your thighs burned against him, branding a reminder into his flesh that this was where he belonged, and the soaked heat between your legs beckoned him back home.

The two of you were as naked as the day you were born - one born on Earth, and one born on Jotunheim. Dark green and satin sheets lay beneath you, twisted and tangled upon your bed. The air inside your room was almost overwhelming, a delicious mixture of heat and musk, and despite the very early morning hour, the city of London still bustled just outside your window, cruelly unaware of the magic that was about to happen above them.

Your lips met again, and even though the kiss was just as hungry as that night in the alleyway, there was something else now with it - a touch of familiarity, of knowing and acceptance even though it couldn’t really be - not with all the lies he’d been telling, and the truth he’d been withholding. Loki kissed you harder, trying to push those thoughts out of his brain, and you happily reciprocated.

As you introduced your tongue to the kiss, Loki cupped the back of your skull with one hand, and brought the other between your hips as he began to rock against you, dragging himself against your entrance and teasing you both into oblivion. Neither of you needed any further teasing, but he did it anyway, just to add the final touch of urgency. You whimpered and opened your hips even further, and on the next push, he was inside you again.

Suddenly, everything made perfect sense as the entire universe opened up before him. Loki let out the hoarsest of groans as he pushed deeper, and your lower back arched even more beneath him. Your fingers curled even tighter around his hair, your lips fell from his to moan his name again, and you were so wet and warm and safe that he felt like nothing could ever hurt him again.

All he ever wanted was to feel like this, and he slowly pulled himself out, just short of all the way, before sinking himself back inside. Your hips writhed uncontrollably as he did that a few more times, and Loki realized that you also needed the reminder that even if he pulled away or left completely, he would always come back to you. That he would never not be thinking of you, or of this.

Loki was already ruined before he began thrusting even faster, and there was absolutely nothing that could have ever stopped him. He buried his face against your neck and arched his back more harshly, pulling all the way out before pumping back inside. Your muscles squeezed around him, and your voice was nothing but breathless and incoherent gasps and moans as you took him in over and over again.

He snaked one arm around your back and the other around your waist as he moved faster, grunting and groaning against your skin as your fingertips scratched at his scalp. His muscles tensed as yours did, and he could tell by the sound of your voice that you were getting close already. His own orgasm was just seconds away, coiling around in his belly, stretching and yearning to break free as he drove himself harder, faster, deeper.

The tension broke simultaneously, and you cried out together, curling tightly around each other’s bodies, clinging for dear life as you came together. Endorphins and hormones coursed through Loki’s veins as the universe came into being, with stars exploding and dust swirling to form the galaxies and planets and realms that could stretch longer and further than anyone would ever know.

You clung so tightly to him during it all, as if you could see what he saw, but somehow he was the only thing that mattered. How could that be, that while an entire universe was being born, that the goddess of a mortal underneath could only look up at him?

Loki didn’t understand it one bit, but he didn’t need to, because all he could feel and see and smell was you. His hips continued rocking, shallower now that he was absolutely spent, and his sighs were heavy in the crook of your neck. He was in total and complete bliss when you let out a choked sob against his ear, and it instantly brought him back to reality.

“Darling…darling, what’s wrong?” he murmured, kissing your neck and squeezing you tighter. Had he done something wrong? Had he unintentionally hurt you in some way while lost in his own pleasure?

He could feel you shake your head, even as another sob escaped you. He could feel the tears streaming down your face and coating his own cheek, but your limbs still wrapped harder around him. Slowly, Loki lifted his head even though he was terrified of what he might see upon your face. His heavy eyelids fluttered open, his blurred vision effortlessly obscuring the tangled limbs and sweaty skin you both shared.

But when your face finally came into view, there was a smile beneath the tears on your cheeks. Your messy hair framed your face like an untidy halo - disconnected from, but still beautiful and fitting for the angel who wore it. Loki would never forget that smile and its tears, so happy and yet so sad all at the same time.

“I don’t know why, Loki…but I’ll be fine, I promise…” you answered in a voice that was so floating and breathless and light.

He could tell you meant it, and it should have reassured him, but it didn’t. The image of that newspaper from 1983 suddenly flashed before his eyes, and Loki remembered the initial reason he had come home with you last night.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

Loki wasn’t exactly sure what he was searching for, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

The sun was just beginning to encroach over the horizon, sending its rays over the city and into the bay windows of your high-rise flat. He padded cautiously into your living room, thankful for the plush white carpets between his toes to mute his exhausted steps.

There was nothing he wanted more than to slip back into bed with you and sleep the day away, but he had to take this opportunity while he still had the chance.

Loki could still see you, sleeping soundly in the arms of the duplicate he’d casted so as to not rouse any suspicion while he snooped. It felt so wrong to be doing this now, so soon after the night you’d just shared together, but the guilt of your future was driving him forward, egging him on and eating him away so badly he wouldn’t be able to have another decent rest even if he tried.

And it was odd, feeling jealous of something he’d conjured to keep you distracted, and in bed. It was, technically-speaking, him…but it wasn’t him- and he was the one who desperately needed the rest. Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since well before Thanos’ capture, since he had lived in the palace on Asgard, and he had no idea when he’d be able to have it again…

Nevertheless, Loki shook his head and rolled it back and forth between his shoulders. His joints popped and cracked as he stretched his arms up over head, extending and pulling and desperately willing his limbs to fully awaken for the task at hand. He opened his eyes wider to take in more light, and he filled his lungs with as much oxygen as he could muster, held it for as long as he could, and released it slowly through his nose.

If anyone else could see him, they’d say he was stalling. Deception ordinarily came easy to him - Odin had taken advantage of that many times - but this was different; in fact, this was much, much worse. And he knew he wasn’t going to like what he found, but it needed to be seen anyway. He had to know if he was the cause of your future addiction, or if had already started before you’d even met.

Loki began his search in the kitchen, opening up the cupboards and pantries, quietly sliding items aside so he could see any possible illicit substances hidden in the back. He checked on top of the refrigerator and deep inside the freezer for excessive quantities of alcohol. He even looked through the drawers of silverware and utensils, the mail on top of the counter, the pockets of your coats hung by the front door for something, anything, that hinted at your painful future.

But he found nothing, just like he was afraid of. And it wasn’t because he wanted you to have an addiction, to be suffering silently and hiding your pain away from the world - he didn’t want that to happen to you at all, ever. But the more he searched, the more it became apparent that he would be the eventual cause of it.

And if he did manage to find something, he could offer you the help you needed. He could take care of you, instead of hurting you. He could be of use for something good, instead of the destruction he normally was.

From the kitchen, he returned to the living room, shoving his hands between the couch cushions and underneath the sofas. He flipped through the magazines stacked on the coffee table, and pulled the books off the bookshelves. All the while, trying so hard not to think about how he was going to eventually make addiction a reality for you.

Loki could tell you were eager to learn more about him, to know him more than just as a man who kept you company at night, and it was getting harder to dodge your questions. He knew you would have more when you awoke, and it wasn’t that you didn’t deserve to hear the answers, because of course you did. You deserved everything happy and safe and beautiful there could ever be, and Loki truly wanted to be the one to give all of that to you.

But Loki didn’t know what to tell you, because that had never been the truth of his reality. So what was he supposed to tell you? That he was the monster that parents told their children about at night?

That he’s an alien being from another realm, who could travel through time and space? That there were different versions of every single person living within multiple universes, and that in 35 years his past self would try to lead an alien army to violently take over New York City?

At best, you wouldn’t believe him at all, and at worse, you’d absolutely hate him for it…even if doing that is exactly what brought him to you in the first place.

After the last book was slid back into place, Loki sighed and turned his attention to the living room as a whole. Everything was clean and organized, everything had a specific place to be and was already there, and absolutely nothing was amiss. Nothing and everything was wrong, all at the same time, and the realization almost brought him to his knees.

Loki was going to ruin your life eventually; the only question now was how he was going to do it, and when he was going to hammer that final nail inside your coffin. Was it going to be as soon as you woke up? Was it going to be because he finally told you the truth?

His fingers pressed into his eye sockets as he collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing away furiously as he pondered his options. Truthfully speaking, how much time did you two have left together? The Loom was still on the verge of total destruction back at the TVA; his friends were back there right now, working tirelessly on a solution while he selfishly snuck away to see you again. To coddle his own emotions and guilt, when none of that would matter if they were unable to save the timelines at all.

And what was he supposed to do if they managed to prevent the Loom’s destruction? Keep sneaking away to come see you like a long-distance lover? Make up a pretend job for himself, never tell you the truth, and force you to perpetually linger in the liminal space between his crafted persona and who he actually was?

Not even he could keep a lie that massive forever. You would eventually discover the truth, or perhaps you would realize that there even was a truth different from the one he was selling you. Maybe what the truth was actually didn’t matter; maybe what mattered was that you couldn’t keep living a lie, and that was all it took to break you.

Loki leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows digging into his knees while dragging his fingertips down his cheeks and over his mouth. His palms pressed together in a silent prayer as his eyes roamed over the room. His eyes filled with tears as he realized this would have to be the last time he ever looked upon it. He would have to leave you, before either of you fell too hard - and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to save you more than it would destroy him.

His expression was solemn as he stood back up from the sofa. He hoped he’d been overthinking your expression in the alleyway a week ago, in the club the night before, in your bed as you’d come together. His heart broke as he prayed that you didn’t actually care about him as much as he already cared about you, that this would actually be easy for you. That you still had the strength to pick up the pieces and carry on with your life.

As Loki turned to leave the living room, to start the long journey back to your bedroom and kiss you goodbye, his eyes caught the painting above your dining room table. His frown shifted into a smile, although his eyes were as distraught and disillusioned as ever. He stepped closer and pressed his fingertips across the frame, thinking about all the stories this single painting told.

You were so unbelievably talented; every brush stroke had been as carefully placed as the belongings inside your flat. How he wished he could see this tree that you loved so much, and how he longed to feel the same kind of permanent comfort that it seemed to bring you even now. He’d never felt such everlasting solace in his entire life, and he’d even happily settle for being able to provide that kind of love for you some day.

But it just wasn’t meant to be. And for now, all Loki could hope for was that your father or your friends could help you still move on.

He reluctantly pulled away and returned down the hallway, training his eyes straight ahead to avoid the beautiful and happy photographs plastered all over the walls. He tried desperately not to look at the candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf. But of course, the morning light caught it, reflecting off the polished brass and right into his anguished gaze.

Loki couldn’t help but pause in front of it, right outside the doorway to your bedroom. He could hear you breathing in your bed, slowly and peacefully, in the arms of his duplicate. You were so close, and yet so far, because he couldn’t tear himself away from the hall and its haunted reminder of his past life.

He’d seen that candelabrum before, but he didn’t know how it had found its way here. Surely, it had to be a coincidence, right? That the asymmetrically curved pieces swung upright to form the horns of the golden headpiece he used to wear before the TVA had taken him away?

Devil’s horns, the enemies of Asgard used to call them. The Dökkláfar of Alfheim had considered them omens of death, but it wasn’t in the same way they had feared Odin’s power, or his brother’s hammer. Those items could always be seen before striking down their enemies; their power was out in the open, demanding to be witnessed, and punishing for their disobedience to the throne.

But by the time an enemy ever saw Loki’s horns, it was already too late. The damage was already done, secretly in the shadows and hidden upon layers and layers of deceptions and lies. His enemies were already dead by the time Loki finally revealed himself and his Devil’s horns, and their last few seconds were usually spent wondering which trick it was that struck the final blow.

So what were they doing here, in this young woman’s flat? In London, in 1977, where he’d never been before and surely would never return to again? Surely there was no way you knew what they actually represented. No, it had to just be an unhappy coincidence.

Back on Asgard, Loki had been repeatedly regulated to operating within the shadows. In his younger years, he had believed it was simply because that was where he excelled. But then he knew better; he knew that Odin had kept him in the shadows intentionally, that he was fit to exist in the light. And now, he was being forced to recede into the shadows yet again, to be nothing but a hopefully wistful and fond memory of yours.

He had only just found you. He had only just come to know the caring touch of peace, and already he was having to give it back up.

Another tear rolled down Loki’s cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. He let out a sharp breath, steeled his jaw, and stepped back inside your bedroom, not at all ready to do the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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animentality · 1 year

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And yes. These are all characters from my demon summoning assassin novel, 7 Deadly Habits of the Modern Demon Summoner.

Which is COMPLETELY FREE to download on the free Kindle app (available for iOS, Android, tablet, etc. on the app store) from February 22nd to February 26th!

eBook only, but if you download it for free now, and like it, then you can always buy the physical copy to have on your shelf :D

Link here.

Full description below. I'd appreciate a reblog/signal boost, because I don't want anyone to miss grabbing the book while it's most accessible. But also vote on which one you think is the worst, because I promise you, they are much, much, much worse in the actual novel.

Anyway. Thanks for listening. Sorry to bother. But not that sorry.

Transcription in case the photo does not load:

Twenty-three-year-old CEO Don Francisco wants one of the richest women in the world dead. Which one? Daphne Oakland: actress, model, heir to the Oakland financial empire, and unbeknownst to the general public, talented demon summoner. But since Francisco isn’t nearly as rich as the established Oakland family, he hires the only assassin he can afford: Sebastián Monterey, a down-on-his-luck, struggling demon summoner, the cheapest and lowest ranking one there is.

But Monterey is nothing like Cisco expected. He’s high-spirited, reckless, relentlessly cheerful …and worse, he’s a bit of a slut. The CEO is horrified to find out that Monterey has not just one, but seven angry exes in the killing business, who will stop at nothing to get in the way of an already impossible hit. Not only do they have personal reasons for wanting to see their former lover dead, they also have professional reasons: they are all currently employed by the Oakland family members!

To make matters worse, Monterey finds out the Oaklands are each protecting a demon ritual artifact for Daphne. When brought together, all 7 can be used to summon a demon more powerful than any currently contracted on earth. If he is to carry out this hit at all, he’ll have to interfere with the summon by stealing every artifact, and maybe even summon the demon before Daphne can.

But that's only if none of his exes kill him first!

And here's some lovely art of the MC, Rey, which I commissioned from the talented @marcissistv (Twitter).

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #literature #bookblr #book recs #fantasy #romance #enemies to lovers #demons #assassins #remember that being mean to me bc i rudely leapt thru ur tumblr living room window is homophobic #dont be homophobic today #dont bully me for setting your dashboard on fire and leaving a trail of ashes on the carpet #i have an excuse which is that im a creative and that makes me a little evil

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bellewintersroe · 7 months

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Max Verstappen X HornerDaughter!

Part 7, here’s the LINK for part 6.

Max throws a luxurious 26th birthday on a yacht in Monaco. Despite it being a fairly civilised meet up the drinks flow a little too easily when the majority of guests have retired for the night. Leni finds herself being one of the party goers drinking with Max until the late hours of the morning. Things only get a little too out of hand from there.

warnings: no spoilers but obviously alcohol consumption, swearing, Max and Leni are giving each other the eyes 👀 mentions of specific antics I will not go into detail about. Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” I cheered, the birthday boy holding a hand out for me as I climbed on the boat, handing Max the biggest bottle of alcohol and a card over.

“Leni!” He exclaimed catching a sight of the present. “You didn’t have to!”

“No it’s fine, you should celebrate with it.” I wobbled slightly before setting my feet down on the ground below. “Thank you.” He smiled, rubbing my arm slightly. “It’s okay.” My voice cracked slightly as I had to force myself to tare my eyes to the other guests on the boat. Amongst them were Max’s mum and sister, whom I’d got along with so well over the years. I was relieved to see them here, alongside a couple more familiar faces I’d met over the years. ”Leni, it’s been too long!” Victoria stood up, welcoming me in a tight hug, one which was followed from his mum. “I know it’s been ages. When did I last see you both, last year?!” “In Abu Dhabi!” Vic immediately began snorting out laughter as I attempted to muffle mine, the memory of how plastered we both were after Max had been crowned champion was hilarious. We did things that were super messy and ever since it had been our inside joke. “Oh..” I cleared my throat. “Was it really that long ago?”

“Yes. I’m surprised you’re not still hungover.” Her voice wobbled from laughter. “What, I don’t get it?” Max approached, touching my back gently before sitting down besides where I stood.

“You wouldn’t.” His sister responded. “I probably am.” I answered her question with a giggle before we returned to our seats. I purposefully sat a little away from Max, especially seeing as his family was here. I didn’t want them to think anything was going on between us, not that it was- but I did want something to happen. Well, partly, the other side of me was playing devils advocate and told myself it was too early after his previous breakup. Even I was in a full fledged relationship only 5 months ago, hell I didn't think I’d thought about my ex once in the past two months, but I had to rationale the time frame before letting myself fully grow feelings for Max.

My mind was a goldmine for overthinking. It was hard not to, even when he was next to me, the warmth of his skin would brush against mine and I’d move away, but only after I’d experienced the way my cheeks warmed, or how my heart would skip a little, stomach would churn, or I’d experience the overwhelming sensation to move closer to him. Fuck! “Are you still with your boyfriend then, Leni?” Sophie asked me as I smiled gently, shaking my head. “No, we broke up a couple months ago now.”

“Oh.” She nodded as I awkwardly smiled, gripping my glass of champagne.

“He wasn’t a really nice boy though, was he? You could do better.” When she did that, I noticed how she eyed Max up slightly who sat besides me, innocently swigging his beer.

“Probably… has my dad been telling everybody about this or?”

“Actually Max told us.” She nodded as I almost choked on my drink. Max looked towards her as if to say ‘shut the hell up’ before I began laughing.

“You’re just as bad as my dad.” This time, I placed a hand on his arm. “They gossip all the time!” Victoria added on as my hand slipped off, shaking my head. “And they say girls are bad…” “Well are you going on dates, Leni?” Sophie asked again. Max let out a groan, “mum, we don’t have to talk about this now.”

“No it’s fine.” I reassured Max. “I’m not, nobody’s asked me.”

“Max ask her on a date.” Sophie immediately spoke, speaking deadpan serious. Victoria and I began laughing at the bluntness behind her words, but when I glanced over to Max I knew I’d needed to save him from such an awkward situation.

“No, no, I’ve seen a couple guys, but I wasn’t really interested.” “Well, I’m sure you’ll find somebody very soon…”

As the night continued we’d sailed further out, lingering not too far from the harbour when we’d dropped a few people off to go to bed. It was 2:30AM and despite the fact we weren’t allowed to play music, the 7 of us that were left were playing all kinds of stupid games.

“I’ve got a game! I’ve got a game!” Maria, who was a girlfriend of one of Max’s friends announced excitedly. “It’s like would you rather, but it’s not would you rather, because we don’t play kids games anymore.”

“Okay..” Ben, her boyfriend waited patiently. “So you have to say like ‘Ben would you rather drink this drink or that one’, and whatever you pick you have to do.”

“Alright, alright.” Max agreed, clearly pretty drunk if he was agreeing to play. “Would you rather, Ben, jump in the water or drink three of them.” Max pushed forwards 3 cans of beer.

“Well, seeing as we’re not allowed in the sea…” he reached out for the alcohol, making a start with his chugging skills. I cringed, praying I wouldn’t get such a difficult question. Who would’ve thought the game would turn so silly so quickly, when people began kissing each other, I’d already polished off way too many drinks.

“Leni!” Somebody called out. “Strip off your dress or take your underwear off.”

“Oh my god.” I laughed, knowing some of the other girls had already done the same. “Neither!” My response was met with protests. “You just want everybody to go commando!” I pulled on the strings of my underwear, not believing I was doing this at all. People wolf whistled and I rolled my eyes, sticking my finger up at Henry who had sent the request out of several other girls. From besides me Max was snickering like a child.

The game was still going heavy with four of us left, Ben and Maria, and Max and I. I found myself with a blanket Max and I shared wrapped over both our shoulders, huddled closer together.

“Leni sit on Max’s lap or give him a lap dance.”

“I don’t know how to give a lap dance!” I exclaimed in my defence, feeling Max’s arm shift down onto my lower back as I shuffled onto his lap, sitting across him with a casual arm over his shoulders comfortably. The alcohol was making me fidgety, I’d craved nothing more than this, I didn’t care about any prior doubts I had. When Max’s other hand rested on my lap, beer in hand, I gulped nervously.

“Max, now kiss Leni or throw her in the sea.” Despite my lack of sobriety I knew I was blushing a vibrant pink colour, giggling towards the Dutch man. “You can throw me in the sea, Max.” I teased. Max was smiling, borderline grinning in amusement. He took my cheek with the hand that still held it beer and we shared a peck on the lips, one that ended so fast I barely even felt anything.

“Oh, do a real one!” Maria groaned, swaying. “Like this-” Ben pulled her in closer, arm wrapping around the back of her neck as they shared the most sloppiest kiss I’d ever seen. Max and I both grimaced, blinking away. They weren’t stopping. “Ew.” Max muttered as I laughed.

“Go around the other side of the boat if you’re gonna do that!” The driver exclaimed as they actually stood up, ‘sneaking’ away on Max’s half-joke.

“Oh my god.” I exhaled in amusement, glancing back to Max. My legs were fidgeting slightly, and being alone in a position like this was making feel all hot and bothered.

“Jesus.” Max muttered as I glanced back down to him, amusement spread across both our faces. Max’s eyes fell to lips and I felt a burst of energy, excitement, an overwhelming desire to lean in. It must have been a mutual feeling, because his hand reached up to touch my face again, bringing me in for a kiss which happened so quickly my drunken mind couldn’t comprehend it.

The kiss was warm, his lips were plump and smiling against my own. We laughed as we kissed one another, butterflies filling my stomach as I placed another hand on his chest. At first it seemed playful, borderline not even real. We were giggling into the kiss like we knew we shouldn’t have been doing it. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I wasn’t complaining. Max was a good kisser, even if we were both shit-faced. His lips moved against mine, beer discarded to one side as he deepened the kiss, pulling me in closer to his lap with a hand on my waist.

We were giggling, like children, and when a funny noise emerged from the two stumbling around on the other side of the ship I turned away and let out a louder laugh. Max exclaimed one of his own too, hugging me closer with a hand on the side of my hip. I felt his chin rest on the bare skin of my shoulder, eyeing my body up from where I sat.

“They’re so drunk.” I managed to squeak out, like the two of us weren’t absolutely rat-arsed. “I know.” He snickered, I turned back down to him and we shared a few more kisses. “What’re we doing, Max?”

“I dunno.” He laughed, kissing me again. I hummed out a giggle, deepening the kiss. I could feel his hands beginning to press on me, finger tips digging in as he pulled me even closer. Our tongues moved against one another’s, and we were fully making out. In fact, when I’d shuffled even further onto Max’s lap, I could feel something pressing against my thigh. He was fucking hard, oh my god. The thought felt alien to me, the fact I was sitting on my good friends lap, making out and he had a whole fucking boner. It turned me on to say the least.

It wasn’t until the boat docked up at the harbour that we broke apart, his hand digging deeper into the flesh of my thigh, as though he was desperate for more. My core was throbbing for him, I hated to sound so crude, but I was so desperate for him it was pathetic. Maybe it was a good thing that we were both a little too drunk, Max attempted to swig the last of his drink, but in return he heaved all over the path on the way to get a ride home.

“Oh, no, Max!” I scurried away in a fake disgust. Truth be told I went home and threw up more than I’d liked to have admitted that night (or morning) and passed out on the bathroom floor. Only future Leni would have to worry about the events of the night which just unfolded…

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x hornerdaughter #F1 x reader #f1 x OC #f1 x hornerdaughter #Horner daughter

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